Saturday, January 24, 2009



hate goodbyes either good or bad. It breathes an air of loneliness and proportions of grotesque nostalgia. It unnerves staccato wailing sounds; it sends lachrymal signals to the brain, thus, giving birth to lonely tears. Really, the weight of departure, separation or even disconnection is immeasurable. Ironically, though, life is filled with separations, divisions, partings, disconnections, splits, break-ups, detachments, call it whatever you like, it exists in our daily milieu.

Realistically speaking, I would like to calculate the mathematics of departure but this humble writer hates figures with a passion, fortunately enough, that task has been unregrettably avoided, as a matter of fact, it has been jettisoned! Have you ever asked yourself why people hate to let go of memory—happy or sad? These questions keep creeping in my head. Departure cuts across all classes, races, social status, to state it emphatically; it exists without rule and does not pay obeisance to authorities.

The weight of departure, however, comes in various scenarios. It might be a love scene—a scene where two lovers have to say goodbye! Where both parties agree that the bond has lost its grip and any further movement might cause a drastic fall. The parties simply crack the hard nut of oneness. They realise that the only gift of parting is sweet-bitter memories which is always cherished during the initial ceremony of departure. There is an effort to discard the packs of musing moments which turns out to be a very difficult task, especially when the memory is dotted with playing sports like: chase-me-I – chase you; saying same words at the same time and playing the almighty “bed-minton”, hmmmmn! Where will one get another? Change is a very big risk so at that juncture there is this unwanted pulsating fear. The fear of: ‘to be or not to be’. One can cultivate the Obama courage but this is departure!!! Nothing is impossible or impossible is nothing! After a shattered relationship, what is next? Try to move on because the future is pregnant with memories that are unfathomable. As a human being, I have walked through that blind, dark and puzzled path of lost love. Quickly, I learnt that for every departure, there is an arrival.

Another scene can be drawn from the pool of tears that flood our airports whether local or international. It can also be carved from the contours of the assorted bus parks around town. Have you ever accompanied your brother, sister, relatives or close friend to the airport? Have you ever seen the willingness to stay and compulsion to go? I saw it today. My brother and friend, who had to leave the country to expand his knowledge base in another country, fell into the above question. He shed tears like a brand new baby. He gave two answers with his tears, YES and NO. Yes representing, I love you guys, No representing I have to go (if not, money go waste). There was a fusion of feelings in his big heart. Freely, he let the tears roll down his cheeks, the drop of tears smelt like the rose that would blossom in the nearest future. By my side I saw a mother breathe in the perfumes of her daughter’s body in exchange for her temporary disappearance. We all love to hate the departure unit, don’t we? She shed tears until they bore the weight of departure.

Do i need to mention the last scene....... Olorun Maje O! But everyone must get a piece of that action whether maliciously or naturally. It is best served when you have served mother earth well

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Obama Wahala

As a big fan of history, I quickly dropped the work i was doing in my office, to watch history take place. I ran to the reception to join other staff watching our "own" Obama make history! My oga, the workaholic, comes out ranting, "is this what you get paid for?" Ok. We went back to work grudgingly. The guy(oga) goes to take a leak and we rushed out again to continue our Obamania wonder!? Oga comes back to meet us again............... the guy smiles and says "Ha! this guy can inspire people o!" The guy  takes an automatic sitting position then joined the scorned. The focusless scorner. Promise, the errand boy in my office, utters in low tones, "this oga na old fool, so him ma wan watch Barack become president of US. He senior Baarack by far but the man get money and popular pass am, see him bald head, na to dey send message he sabi......." 

My oga starts clapping as Obama delivered his speech. After the speech, the man just closed for the day. Quite unusual! He leaves after everybody. Wetin Happen?

Promise: the guy wan go think about him life.